The London Job
by randomplotbunny
Summary: Eliot is injured and the team needs help or the mark will get away. Just who is this doctor that has their hitters' trust? And what is up with his flatmate?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If either Sherlock or Leverage were mine I'd be doing a happy dance.**

"Eliot? Are you alright?"

"Yeah Nat, just a little gunshot wound to the side. Nothin' to be concerned about." As he pressed his hand harder into his side he felt a mite concerned at the fact that the blood hadn't even slowed in its steady trickle. The bullet must still be inside, he realized.

"I'm sending Hardison to get you."

"No! I've already compromised the mission, we can't let the mark get away!" With this amount of damage he was going to need a hospital- or one really good army doctor.

"You're bleeding man! Let me come and get you, take you to see a doctor!"

"No! Besides, I already got a doctor that can patch me up."

"In London? Who is it? Doctor Who?"

"Nah, but he is the best." And he just had to hope that John was at home.

LEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCK

John was having a peaceful day doing nothing.

Sherlock was off doing who-knows-what at Bart's, the clinic hadn't called, he had a fresh cup of tea at hand and was just opening his blog to write-up another of their cases.

Just as he settled down a knock came from the front door. Setting his laptop to the side he went to answer it as Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister.

Opening the door he was met by a face he hadn't seen in years.

"Eliot?"

"Hey John. Sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to still have your kit, would you?" Noticing the blood soaking one side his friend's shirt he quickly led the man upstairs and sat him in the bathroom.

Quickly grabbing his old kit from his army days- though, thanks to Mycroft, it was filled with fresh supplies as Sherlock was prone to injury and hated hospitals- he set to work.

"I would ask how, but I'm not too sure I want to know."

"It's not what you think, Doc."

"I'm sure." Quickly removing the bullet he cleaned the wound, making certain there was no internal hemorrhaging John started stitching the ragged hole closed.

"I've turned over a new leaf, I'm doing good work with a group now. We help out those who most need it, but can't get it."

"Sounds nice." John said absently as he tied off the last stitch.

"Yeah, it really is." Holding the gauze in place while the doctor taped it down, Elliot finally felt his adrenaline waning.

"Let's get you in bed. You've lost a lot of blood and I'll need to replace that as well as get you an IV drip to prevent infection." Too tired now to question how the pensioned off ex-army doctor would be able to get that kind of equipment, let alone the IV bags and extra blood, Elliot let himself be tucked into John's' bed.

"Thanks Doc, don't know what I'd've done if ya hadn't taken me in."

"Not a problem, I'll always be ready to help out a friend."

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer the injured man fell asleep feeling safe. As unconsciousness finally drew him down Elliot had one moments worry: How was the team going to get on without their hitter?

LEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCK

"John!" Sherlock called as he entered the flat. When no answer was forth coming he made his way around in search of clues as to where his blogger could have gone.

His coat was gone, so he was out- obviously- but they didn't need anything from the store, and his briefcase was still here so it wasn't that clinic he spent time at.

The cold cup of tea sitting forgotten by his chair said that John had left in a rush.

Looking in the bathroom he had a moments panic- not that he would ever admit to that- when he saw the bloody shirt and used medical supplies.

Quickly deducing that John had been treating someone else, and not himself, he relaxed.

Heading to John's room- it being the last place to check now that he had some idea of where John was- Sherlock looked over the sleeping figure.

Backing out quickly and quietly- not wanting to disturb the obviously trained killer- Sherlock decided to wait for John in the sitting room.

It would be easier to get answers directly from the source after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: So not mine.**

"Parker?"

"I'm kind of busy right now." The thief said while working open the safe.

"We need those papers."

"I'm working on it." And she was, but the electronic lock was sticking. Stupid antiquated software- what she wouldn't give to work with an old tumbler and dial system, those were always the best.

"Well, work harder. We're one man down and on a time crunch here. We can't let Bates get away."

"We know Nat, please calm down. We're all worried about Eliot, but you need to let us do our jobs." Sophie finally chimed in, giving Parker the time she needed.

Eliot had been out of contact for over a day and they were all feeling the stress from not knowing if he was fine or not.

"Yeah Nat, chill. We'll get 'im." Hardison tossed his two cents worth in as he broke through the final firewall.

The mark had been on edge ever since the shoot-out that had injured their hitter, and they had to get the evidence before he spooked completely and fled the country.

"Got it!" Parker cheered as the safe swung open.

"I'm in!" Hardison said at the same time.

"And we got a problem." He continued as he stared at blank files.

"Same here. The safe's empty except for a pile of ashes. Who locks up ashes in a safe?"

"Someone who's tying up loose ends. Hardison, shut it down. Parker, run."

Parker fled and Hardison burned his access, they were back to square one.

"Guys, meet me at the hotel. Sophie, get out of there as soon as possible."

"Alright." And she turned back to the party full of diplomats and business men with a bright smile and a french accent.

Rendevouzing in Nat's suite, the team- minus one member- went over what went wrong. Hardison summed it up:

"Bates is moving out. He's whitewashed his files, shredded his paper trail and liquidated his assets into a Swiss account. We've got nothing." Pouring himself a drink Nat waved at the screen displaying their current mark.

"What about his black book?" Everyone looked confused.

"His what?" Hardison voiced for everyone.

"His black book- it's a journal. He would have filled it with all the important information and dates of his business transactions, as well as the money trails he's left so he knows where he needs to throw the dirt to cover himself." Stepping around to the computer he pulled up a picture of the mark holding a book of some kind.

"Bates is too organized to not keep some sort of record of his transactions. It'll all be in his black book."

"But how do we get it?" Sophie asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, he's always surrounded by his goons." Parker chipped in.

"Highly trained, ex-Russian Naval Infantry. Eliot said it'd be suicide to try to get through them. Their motto is: 'There, where we go, there is victory'. Frighteningly efficient and dangerous." Hardison supplied.

"Then we just need to find a way around them. Any ideas?" Everyone shifted uncomfortably, again Hardison answered for them all.

"We need to find Eliot."

LEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCK

John was busy: his patient had yet to wake up and his flatmate kept prying for answers.

"Sherlock! For the last time! You are not taking a sample of his blood! I already gave you the bullet to play with, if you're bored then go hit corpses at Barts. But you are not coming near my patient!"

"But Jooohhhn! He's just laying there! At least make him do something interesting!"

"No! Stay. Away. From my. Patient!" He bit out, and the tall brunette stalked off.

John had told him that the man was a friend of his from his army days and had refused to say anything more about him, it was really irritating the curious detective.

Returning to his patient John was pleased to see the man had finally awoken.

"Spat with the Misses?" The man joked. John answered with a grin- he at least knew Eliot was only joking, unlike most everyone else that insinuated such things.

"The worst. How are you feeling?" He began taking the man's vitals as he waited for a response.

"No worse than the last time you patched me up. How's the shoulder? Does it still bug you? Sorry I didn't visit you afterwards..."

"My shoulder's fine- thank you for saving my life by the way- and I understand why you never visited, I never actually expected you to. You had to get out before you were caught smuggling those people across the border. They did make it, didn't they?"

"Yeah, all safe and sound and living new lives." Stretching, he winced as his stitches pulled and his joints cracked from disuse.

"How long was I out?"

"A day, I set your phone and earpiece on the nightstand if you need to contact anyone."

"Thanks man." Patting his friend on the shoulder John stood up to give him privacy to make his calls.

"I'll be downstairs, call if you need anything; and I'll bring up some tea and biscuits in a few. We need to build your strength back up." Heading to the door he turned around once more.

"And don't go making plans to leave yet. You're staying until I deem you fit enough to take care of yourself." Giving a final smile to his patient John left.

Picking up his phone Eliot scrolled through the contacts list until he found the number he wanted. The phone barely rang before it was picked up.

"Eliot! Where are you man? Are you okay? Your GPS is blocked, and I can't get your comms to come up. Wherever you're at must have some tight security surrounding it."

"Hardison! Shut it man, I'm fine. I got patched up by a friend and am staying with him until he says I can go. Now... where are you on the mark?"

"No where, man. The guy's about to bug-out and has already destroyed almost everything. We got nothing. What we need is this journal thing he keeps with him, but we also need you so we can get close enough to grab it."

"Get close to him?! Didn't I tell you about how suicidal that would be?!"

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts- they are the Russian Marines! I'm too injured to fight, and only a few other men in the world can go toe-to-toe with them!"

"So lets find one of those guys. Do you know any? Are there any in London?" Just then a short, blonde doctor in a horrible jumper- what a stupid name for a sweater, he thought- walked in with a tray of tea and finger foods.

"Oh, sorry. I'll just..." John apologized as he began to leave again, he stopped as Eliot called to him.

"Wait. Hardison, I'll call you back." Hanging up on stuttering questions from a confused and excited hacker, he turned to face the man who had just walked in.

"John? I hate to ask man, but could you do me a big- BIG- favor?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I could only dream of owning something half as cool as either of these shows.**

Sherlock was, thankfully, out when John helped Eliot to the sitting room and made everything ready for his guests.

If the git had been in he would have been making a right pest out of himself John knew, but thankfully there had been a high-profile jewel theft and they had wanted Sherlock to investigate.

Once his guests arrived, and he'd gotten the blonde girl to stop poking the bag of tongues in the fridge, John was given a briefing on the man he would be helping to take down- which for some reason involved a lot of computer graphics.

"Johan Bates: self-made millionaire, business tycoon, and all around nasty dude to get near."

"Don't forget hot! He's hot. He was on the cover of a calendar or something." The blonde girl, Parker, cut in while examining the skull on the mantel piece and giving John a big smile.

She'd found that he smelled like wool and gun oil, and she loved it!

"Y-Yeah, we know, Parker. Th-The calender thing." The computer geek said, clearly uncomfortable with his- obviously- girlfriend calling another man hot; much to everyone's amusement.

"Anyway." He drew attention back to his laptop screen, and the swirling documents he had pulled up.

"In recent years Bates has taken to buying into small businesses and then bankrupting them. Then he buys them out and runs the company into the ground."

"All the while raking in a steady profit as the families are forced out onto the streets." The elegant brunette, Sophie- though John didn't believe for a moment that that was her real name- said.

"And every bit of it completely legal. Well, if you don't get caught." The leader of the group, Nathan, finished the summary.

"And what about this journal Eliot said you needed to grab? What's so important about it?" John asked, and nearly sighed as the computer geek, Hardison, brought up more pictures.

Catching Eliot's eye they shared an eye roll at the man's fondness for his electronic gadgets.

"His journal is really a ledger, it holds all the shady and underhanded deals that he's done to get to where he is. Since our guy spooked..." Hardison gave Eliot a pointed look.

"Hey! I didn't want to get shot!"

"Since he was 'somehow' tipped off, he burned his trail and we haven't been able to get anything on him." As his friend tensed up next to him John got the feeling that the two men fought like brothers, and often too.

"Bates cleared house, Dr. Watson, and now we need his black book in order to bring justice to all the families he's destroyed. Are you in?" The lead man, Nathan, asked; and John couldn't think of a reason to say no, so he nodded.

As the doctor was putting the tea service away- Sophie had enjoyed it particularly, saying that it had been too long since she had last had proper tea- everyone leaned over Eliot for a quick questioning session.

"He's so short, man. I can't see him taking down a purse snatcher, let alone some over trained goons." Was what Hardison began with.

"I like him!" Parker tossed in as she munched on her fifth chocolate biscuit that John had slipped her when no-one else was watching.

"He seems to be a perfectly typical and polite English gentleman, and you don't see many of those anymore. I don't want to break him with this." Sophie commented as she looked over at the good doctor, who was taking his time in the kitchen and pretending that he didn't know he was being discussed.

"Do you trust that he can do this?" Nate simply asked his out of commission Hitter.

Looking every one of his friends- his family- in the eye, he turned to look at the short blonde in the frumpy jumper before turning back and answering.

"I would trust him to kick MY ass." Reassured, and slightly awed, by that admission the gang started laying out their plans for John so he would know what he would need to do, and where he would need to go.

SHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGE

It was dark by the time Sherlock returned to the flat, the investigation on the jewel theft had gone nowhere.

The best he had come up with was that it had been a female, early twenties, blonde, hyper, been a professional for years now and had simply broken in for fun. He had found the jewels slipped in through the mail slot.

It had all been frightfully dull, but a welcome change from John's protective hovering over that trained killer he was treating and not letting Sherlock near.

Opening the street level door, Sherlock came face-to-face with a tray wielding Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh Sherlock, there you are! I was just taking a few nibbles up to John's guests while he was out. Do you think they'll like scones? They're American, so I'm not too sure... Sherlock!" But the detective was already up the stairs.

Bursting into his flat he saw a scene of industrious camaraderie.

The injured man John had been fawning over had frozen mid gesture at his abrupt entrance, and the other man had barely looked up from his computer at the interruption.

"Now then, Sherlock, you shouldn't go running off like that. My old knees just can't keep up." Mrs. Hudson scolded as she made her way into the room.

As she passed out tea and scones, and fussed quietly over the injured man's comfort, Sherlock was making rapid fire deductions about the two.

Once alone with the two criminals, Mrs. Hudson had taken her leave to watch her shows, he settled himself in his chair and turned his sharp eyes on the cold ones that watched him for any signs of hostility.

Sherlock could see that if he made even a slight advance on the hacker sitting in John's chair that, injury or no injury, he would have a fight on his hands.

"Just who are you, and what have you talked my blogger into doing?" He finally asked.

)

_AN: And a new chapter is up! Yeah! I bet you all thought I'd forgotten, didn't you?_

_I didn't forget, I just couldn't figure out what the mark had done- which should have been one of the first things I decided on before I began this story, I know._

_The next chapter should have Sherlock getting to know the gang, as well as BAMF! John taking out the Russians, so be prepared for that._

_Though it may take me a while to write it up to my satisfaction, I'm a stickler for accuracy and fight scenes are hard work._

_Please let me know what you think! And if you've got any ideas about how Sherlock should react to the various members of the gang let me know, I may very well use your ideas if they are interesting enough._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

"So, little brother, just what have you gotten yourself mixed up in this time?" Mycroft Holmes said in his know-it-all smug manner.

Removing the ice-pack from his swollen jaw- those Russians really pack a punch- Sherlock simply glared up at his brother.

"Ah! The silent treatment I see, then perhaps I should just ask Dr. Watson."

"Ask me what?" The blonde said as he handed Sherlock a mug of tea and two pain relievers.

"He doesn't know what happened earlier and is fishing around for clues." The detective said as John sat on the sofa- Mycroft had once more taken his chair.

"Okay then, but do you know what happened yourself?" John asked with a smirk- it wasn't often one got a leg-up on a Holmes, and right now he knew more than both of them.

"Of course I do: You were tricked into putting yourself in a dangerous situation and I got you out." John just smirked harder and turned his eyes on Mycroft, silently asking for his interpretation of events.

"You voluntarily chose to help a team of criminals to take down a wealthy businessman and got in over your head, and nearly got Sherlock killed in his attempt to rescue you." John snorted at that, and quickly devolved into laughter at the affronted expressions both men wore.

"Neither of you are even close!" He managed to gasp out.

After a few minutes of near hysterical laughter, John pulled himself together and began to recount the events from earlier that evening.

_He waited until the mark exited the back door of the hotel and began making his way to his private car._

_That was when Sophie stepped out and gave a 'drunken damsel in distress' performance that distracted the mark while John came up behind the three heavies._

_A fist to the throat brought the first one down, spitting blood and gasping for air, but after that the element of surprise wouldn't be able to help him._

_At least now it was only two on one, almost even odds._

_The second bodyguard made a grab for him, but John danced out-of-the-way and managed to distract the third one from his ushering the mark into the safety of the waiting car._

_He landed a blow to the second one's jaw while swiping the feet out from under the third, then things got serious._

_Both 'guards rushed him, sending him into some overstuffed trash bags- they made him smell like one of Sherlock's experiments after a long weekend- but the short blonde was able to elbow the third 'guard on the back of the head and send him to sleepyland._

_That just left the second 'guard and him alone in the alley way- the mark having driven away in the black car without the combatants noticing._

_The two men faced off with each other. Blows were traded back and forth, a few insults were hurled and John wound up momentarily on his back with a foot headed for his skull._

_That was when Sherlock threw himself into the fight, saving John from a concussion but gaining himself a knot on the jaw and a gun in his face._

_A second later John was up and the 'guard was down, then the two friends were running off back to their- seemingly empty- flat._

"So. This Mr. Bates escaped, the team of criminals that you believe are modern-day Robin Hoods are nowhere to be found and you have no evidence suggesting anything other than that he was a businessman that they wished to fleece." John went over everything he'd related in the last few minutes while trying to roll out the stiffness that had set in out of his bad shoulder.

"Pretty much, yeah." He finally said in a unapologinic tone of voice.

If Mycroft didn't want to believe him then that was fine by him.

"Makes sense." Sherlock finally said as he rolled to ear-bud he had taken from John around in his hand.

"Really Sherlock, you are not buying into this farfetched story are you?" The ginger-haired man sneered as he stood from his seat.

"I trust that John believes everything that he told us, and I have as yet to see evidence to contradict him." With a disappointed look at his little brother the elder Holmes stalked out of the building.

"Thank you Sherlock, I'm glad you're giving me the benefit of the doubt." Before the detective could say anything more his phone went off.

"What is it Lestrade?" He listened for a little while before hanging up and turning a glare on his flatmate.

"You set that up." John just grinned.

"They needed to be able to give Bates over to the legal authorities as quickly as possible- I take it that that was Lestrade calling to thank you busting the Bates' criminal activities wide open- and so I told them to just use your name and everything would be fine. And with Bates' ledger as evidence he won't have a legal leg to stand on."

"But how did they get him?" John's grin widened into a full smile.

_While John distracted the remaining two 'guards Parker got out of the car and used her taser on the mark, she and Sophie then maneuvered him into the backseat and Nate drove them out of the alley._

_"How we doing?" _

_"Found the book, photographing it now." The grifter said as she took photo's of the open pages Parker held up._

_Twenty minutes later Gregory Lestrade walked out to his car after receiving an odd text and found an unconscious, suit clad man bound in his front seat with a ledger and a printed list of his crimes taped to his chest. _

_It was signed: With regards, Sherlock Holmes._

"And now what will happen?" The tall detective asked, but before John could answer the team- sans Eliot who was once more in John's bed, asleep- filed their way into the sitting room.

Nate took John's chair opposite Sherlock and answered the question.

"Now, Mr. Holmes? Now we work on giving what families we can their businesses back, and then we head back to the US and work on projects that don't require a hitter for a time. But the real question here is this: what are you going to do now that you know about us?" The two men- one genius and one mastermind- stared at each other a moment before Sherlock sat back and placed the ice-pack back on his jaw.

"I don't know what you mean, there doesn't seem to be anything that I need to do." Nate gave one of his satisfied smirks and stood up.

He and Sophie headed out the door with quiet goodbyes to John, but Parker and Hardison stayed under the pretence of watching over Eliot until they had to leave.

_They had just finished briefing John on the plan and now had some time to kill before the actual event._

_Sophie dragged Nate off for a late luncheon/early diner while the others opted for take-out._

_As they sat around eating the conversation had, of course, led to the subject of Sherlock._

_"Hardison found his website and your blog." Parker began, and then the questions didn't stop until they were leaving for the hotel._

_Parker was fascinated by the idea of seeing a person's entire life all in one glance, and Hardison was impressed with Sherlock's grasp of hacker codes._

_"He had to have hand-built his entire website from them. No hacker worth the name could look at it and not see it." Parker looked confused for a moment._

_"What name?" _

_"P-Parker... Hacker, Parker!"_

_"Oh."_

_It was obvious that they had become instant fans of the anti-social detective._

Parker- being Parker- was the first to break the silence after the others had gone.

"Can you really-"

"You were the one that broke into the jewelry store I investigated yesterday, and your boyfriend there doesn't like your new shampoo but doesn't know how to tell you." Unoffended, she pressed on.

John had long since curled up in Sherlock's bed- it wasn't as if the man ever used it- and Alec had finally given up and passed out on the sofa- but not until he'd gotten a promise that he and Sherlock would talk computers the next day- and so it was just Sherlock and Parker.

They had started out talking about the best security systems, and then about the easiest safes to crack; eventually they began swapping stories about breaking into highly secured facilities.

By the time the sun began to rise, and the others in the flat began to stir, they each had several new ideas for circumventing security nets that they wanted to try out.

As John began making breakfast Hardison leaned over to whisper into John's ear.

"How afraid should we be that those two are becoming friends?" John, who had been thinking along those exact same line ever since he'd woken up to see them pouring over floor plans for the National Museum, turned to the hacker and put on a brave face.

"Just look at it this way: At least neither of them will ever get caught."

)

_AN: I had planed to make this story much longer, but I felt that this would be a good place to cut it off._

_I do have other ideas for this crossover- some of them oneshot sequels to this story- so keep a weather eye open for them._

_Until then: Please tell me what you think of this, many times the ideas in your reviews inspire me to write more or faster._


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